


would you have me, would you want me?

by goldenraeofsun



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Charlie Bradbury & Castiel Friendship, Flashbacks, Light Angst, Loner Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Popular Dean Winchester, School Reunion, Teacher Castiel (Supernatural), Teacher Dean Winchester, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26268751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenraeofsun/pseuds/goldenraeofsun
Summary: Castiel wipes his sweaty hands on his slacks.He tugs at the tie strangling him and runs a hand through his hair. He grimaces. So much for all the preparation he put into his appearance before he left his house.After a deep inhale to fortify himself, he steps inside his high school for the first time in ten years.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 31
Kudos: 273





	would you have me, would you want me?

**Author's Note:**

> An enormous thank you to my beta, [tiamatv,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiamatv/) who read this twice and is a gift ♥

Castiel wipes his sweaty hands on his slacks. 

He tugs at the tie strangling him and runs a hand through his hair. He grimaces. So much for all the preparation he put into his appearance in front of the mirror twenty minutes ago.

He inhales a deep breath and steps inside his high school for the first time in ten years.

The fluorescent lighting doesn’t do the old halls any favors, and the entryway, at least, smells violently of lemon-scented cleaner. There have been a few pathetic attempts at livening up the stubbornly beige walls - colorful signs mark the way to the gym, like Castiel would ever forget even after ten years.

It’s strange to see the place so empty.

“Hello!” Becky, their alumni representative, waves him over to a table just inside the entryway. It’s completely cluttered with bits of paper and blank name tags. “Are you here for the reunion?”

Castiel coughs. “Yes.”

“So glad to have you here,” Becky says as Castiel drags his feet closer. “Name?”

“Castiel Novak?”

“Oh!” Becky says, her eyes widening. “I hardly recognized you without the books, and the coat, and the...” she gestures vaguely to her own face, which Castiel takes to mean the semi-permanent scowl he wore all throughout high school. Before Castiel can react, she ducks her head and drags her finger down a clipboard. “Alright, Castiel, I’ll mark you down as present. Fill out a name tag if you want, and here are your tickets for your two drinks. Would you like to enter the fundraising raffle? We’re hoping to send the volleyball team to nationals this year.”

Castiel quails under Becky’s doe eyes and forks over ten dollars for the raffle. He also writes out a name tag, since his classmates might have the same reaction as Becky.

Armed with his name tag and drinks tickets, he follows the signs to the gym.

* * *

Cas wipes his sweaty hands on his slacks.

He shouldn’t have agreed to this. He doesn’t _go_ to parties. He is not a partier. The closest he’s ever come to one was after his brother’s graduation, but that was eleven years ago. Cas was seven.

Cas successfully avoided all high school parties for the past three and a half years, but apparently nothing lasts forever.

Biting his lip, he presses down hard on Tessa’s doorbell. 

The door opens, and Cas barely has enough time to school his face into a less terrified expression before Tessa appears. “You’re not the pizza man,” she says, frowning.

Cas blinks at her. “I... sorry?” He offers the wine Uncle Marv gifted his parents, the one Cas’s mother promised never to drink in a million years.

Tessa’s face brightens as she takes it from him. “Who invited you?”

“Dean - Dean Winchester,” Cas says, like there could be any other Dean that mattered at Edlund High.

Tessa opens the door wider, calling over her shoulder, “Dean!”

Cas steps inside without waiting for Dean to rescue him. Dean is probably too occupied to see him inside - or so Cas assumes. He’s never been to a party like this before, but even the senior year loner hears about the types of things Dean gets up to at events like these. 

Cas follows Tessa past a flight of roped-off stairs further into the house. The noise and the people hit him full force in a dimly lit living room. Music blasts from speakers connected to a massive entertainment center. The whole area is jam-packed with teenagers and smells strongly of beer and hormones. Cas scans the crowd, recognizing more faces than not, to his relief. 

“Kitchen’s that way,” Tessa says loudly, pointing to a door, bright light spilling from beyond. “If you want to get a drink, be my guest.” She shoulders past a group of girls from Cas’s homeroom and disappears from sight.

Cas heads for the kitchen. Maybe he can clear his head there and come up with a plan. Or maybe he can get drunk enough not to care about all the bad decisions that led him here.

* * *

Castiel turns at the sound of his name.

He spins around in place, searching the faces in the gym for one he recognizes.

“Cas, you made it!”

Castiel stumbles as Charlie’s arms wrap around him. “I didn’t think you’d come,” she says as she steps away, a broad grin stretching across her face.

“I live in the next school district over. I’m sure people traveled farther than that.”

“Yeah, but,” Charlie says awkwardly, “I know high school wasn’t the best time for you.”

Castiel’s mouth twitches. “Only the last few months of senior year. The rest went well enough.” He scans the gym before meeting Charlie’s knowing gaze. 

Charlie winks at him. It’s not like she couldn’t put the pieces together herself. Most of their points of conversation revolve around a shared high school experience, so naturally Dean comes up once or twice (or a dozen times) during their sporadic get togethers.

It was even nice, sometimes, since Charlie is the only person from his teenage years he sees anymore. 

“I know what you’re talking about,” Charlie says with a shudder. “I got bangs for senior year. _Bangs.”_

Castiel smiles weakly. “You could have made worse decisions.”

"If we’re going to talk about how dumb we were as teenagers, then I’m going to need another drink,” Charlie says as they make their way to the makeshift bar. “Don’t worry,” she says in an undertone, “He’s not here yet.”

“He’s coming?”

Charlie throws him a look. “Dude, he’s the newest hire in the English department. There’s no way he got out of attending his own reunion.”

Castiel absentmindedly nods along as he looks around. There’s a slideshow projecting onto a far wall, showing candid shots from ten years ago. About fifty people mill around the gym, chatting in little groups, nobody Castiel recognizes. More than a few people huddle over their own on their phones, ignoring everyone else.

He asks, “Is this typically what happens at these things?”

“How should I know?” Charlie says as they get in line. “This is my first reunion too.”

Castiel turns to her. “You didn’t go to our five year?”

Charlie wrinkles her nose. “I was kind of in hot water for hacking into NORAD so I laid low in Norway until everything died down.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Why would a tech consultant for Roman Enterprises hack into NORAD?”

“Why _wouldn’t_ I?” Charlie shoots back.

Castiel has no retort prepared, so he steps up to trade his ticket for a glass of cheap wine. “How is Dorothy doing?”

“She’s good. Away at a meteorology conference, but those’re the hazards of dating a nerd.” Charlie exhales a long-suffering sigh, watching with mild interest as the bartender pours out Castiel’s glass.

Castiel snorts. “I wouldn’t know.”

Charlie elbows him playfully in the side. “’Course you don’t. You always liked them dumber, didn’t you?”

“Dean wasn’t _dumb.”_

Charlie cackles as she hands over her own ticket to the bartender. “I didn’t say anyone’s name.”

* * *

Cas turns at the sound of his name. 

“Dean?” he answers.

Tessa’s kitchen is only slightly quieter than the living room, but not much. There are fewer people here, though, which leaves Cas some breathing room. 

Dean strides up to him, a red cup of something in his hand and a grin on his face. Party-goer Dean doesn’t look any different than Student Dean, clad in worn jeans and his favorite Led Zeppelin short sleeved shirt. “Hey, man. I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Of course,” Cas says, clutching his own drink tightly. “You invited me.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, his gaze skittering away, “this isn’t your usual scene, though.”

“I can try new things.” Cas takes a sip of his punch and makes a face at the overwhelmingly sweet taste. “It _is_ our senior year, so I thought it might be time.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean says with a laugh, “as long as it got you out of the library.”

Cas’s frown deepens. “What’s wrong with the library?”

“Nothing,” Dean says, eyes widening. He raises his free hand, palm out, in a gesture of no-harm. “It’s just not the sort of place you’d go for a good time, you know what I mean?”

Cas’s eyes narrow. “I’ve had plenty of good times in the library.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Not the kind I was talking about, Cas.”

Cas hasn’t ever gotten blown in the book stacks of the library like some pornography had indicated was possible, but he won’t call his time spent there a total waste. He says, “If it hadn’t been for our enjoyable tutoring sessions in the library, I wouldn’t be here.”

Dean beams at him. “Yeah, I’m kind of sorry they’re over, but I guess our grades don’t matter any more.”

“What?” Cas blinks at him. “Our grades matter.”

“Dude, it’s April.”

“Colleges can still rescind acceptance letters.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Come on, you nerd,” he grabs Cas by the hand. “We can’t block the line to the booze or Tessa'll murder me.”

Cas lets himself get led back out into the living room, a bemused expression on his face. The music and the chatter of a dozen different conversations hit him like a palpable slap to the face.

“What do we do now?” Cas asks loudly, as he throws back the rest of his cup of punch. It is much more tolerable in larger, quicker doses.

Dean glances around before leaning closer so Cas could hear him. “Whatever you want.”

Cas shivers as Dean’s breath ghosts over his ear and down his neck.

“We got the dancers, the stoners, the wallflowers,” Dean points each out, “the horndogs...”

Cas tears his gaze away from Charlie and Gilda, entwined on the couch. “Where do you fall?”

“Me?” Dean asks, surprised. He holds up his drink, a smile playing around his lips. “It’s a little early to tell. This is only my third one. Speaking of,” he takes Cas’s drink and drains it, “We should get you another one. You’re barely caught up to me.”

Cas dumbly takes his cup back. If he refills this cup, his lips might touch the same surface Dean’s had. The ghost of a kiss.

It was a technique old Hollywood films used to indicate romantic attraction, since kissing on-screen was heavily restricted. Characters would share cigarettes, food, and drinks instead of touching, especially if the relationship was taboo and wouldn’t pass the censors.

Cas stares up at Dean, uncomprehending.

“Come on, man,” Dean says as he nudges Cas back towards the kitchen. “Before all the good booze is gone.”

* * *

Castiel chokes on his drink.

Charlie gives him a few hard whacks on the back, giggling under her breath. “I know Dean’s hot and all, but that doesn’t mean you have to do a spit take when you see him.”

“I was surprised,” Castiel says defensively as he desperately tries to regain his composure.

“Uh huh.” Charlie smirks, eyebrows waggling. “Want me to call him over? I don’t think he’s spotted us yet.”

Castiel swallows down the rising tide of panic in the back of his throat. For God’s sake, he’s nearly thirty years old. He can’t go to pieces over Dean Winchester, not again. 

It’s just been a while. He hasn’t had a boyfriend in several years. All his friends, Charlie included, are taken or aromantic, and lately Castiel’s been feeling like the odd bachelor out.

Dean probably isn’t all Castiel has been building up in his head. It’s been ten years, after all. Dean must have changed.

Castiel certainly has. He’s no longer the loner who filled his life with facts and grades instead of friends. Well, he still has school, but at least this time around he’s the one grading tests instead of being graded.

But it’s _Dean._ The one who got away - or ran away, in Dean’s case.

Charlie waves and calls Dean’s name, and, before Castiel can wrap his head around what’s happening, Dean is in front of them, in all his glory. Ten years older, but no less handsome. He still has those barely-there freckles splattered across his cheeks.

“So how’ve you been?” Dean asks Charlie.

“Can’t complain.” Charlie shakes her head. “I got a new haircut.”

“The bob suits you, Red,” Dean says, grinning as he reaches out to ruffle it.

Charlie dodges, one finger in his face in warning. “You touch it and you die, Handmaiden. It doesn’t look this natural naturally.”

“Fair,” Dean says, hands in the air.

Castiel watches them both, a sinking feeling in his gut. He’s been here before, watching from the sidelines as Dean joked and teased his friends. In the same room but also miles away.

He shouldn’t have expected any different.

Ten years, and nothing has changed.

But then Charlie punches Dean in the arm, throwing a significant look at Castiel, and Castiel’s mood sinks lower. He doesn’t need Charlie to make Dean pay attention to him; that wasn’t the point of coming here tonight.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says quietly.

Castiel clears his throat. “Hello, Dean.”

*** * ***

Cas chokes on his drink. 

Spluttering, he gasps for breath, his face reddening with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” Dean says, his eyes laughing. “I guess this batch is stronger than the last one.” He gently guides Cas away from the punch bowl, towards an unoccupied corner of the kitchen. “Here,” he says, swapping out their cups. “I only got Jack and Coke in mine.”

“Are you sure?”

Dean sniffs the punch skeptically before taking a small sip. “Yeah, my standards are not high. Jesus Christ, they must’ve poured the whole bottle in there.”

Cas hides his own smile behind the rim of Dean’s cup.

“So, Cas,” Dean starts, “What’s up?”

“What’s up?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “It’s like I hardly see you now we’re done with Cicero.”

Cas takes a large gulp of his drink. “I didn’t realize you noticed.”

“‘Course I did!” Dean says, mock-outraged. He ignores a loud cheer from the crowd around the doorway at the other end of the room. “Tutoring was the best part of Thursdays.”

“You have double-period Latin and Ms. Abbadon back-to-back on Thursdays,” Cas says shrewdly, as he watches Gordon from Calculus brandish two full bottles of vodka. “There wasn’t much competition, as far our tutoring sessions went.”

“How’d you know that?” Dean asks, baffled.

“You complained of both frequently,” Cas says. Before he can stop himself, Cas tacks on, “I always listen when you tell me things, Dean.”

Dean smiles weakly at him before taking a large gulp of punch. “Hey, do you want to go somewhere quieter? I can barely hear myself think.”

Cas nods and lets Dean pull him out of the kitchen.

“So how’re you _really_ doing?” Dean asks as they settle down on the first steps of the forbidden stairs to the second story of Tessa’s house. “Did your old man come through?”

Cas’s expression hardens. “He won’t be able to make it to graduation. I received his response in the mail a few weeks ago.”

Dean studies him, and Cas tries not to fidget under his gaze. “Let me guess, you’ve been skulking in the library ever since, your nose buried in a book.”

Cas bristles. “I do not skulk.”

“Dude, you so do,” Dean says, laughing. “With the face, and the eyes - trust me, you’ve sent freshmen running for the hills and you don’t even know it.”

Cas hunches in on himself. “I haven’t been in… the best of moods lately.”

“No shit,” Dean says as he reaches out and claps Cas on the shoulder. “At least you’ll have Gabriel?”

“Small consolation.”

Dean bumps up against Cas reassuringly. “Come on, he’ll make enough noise for at least four relatives.”

Cas just shakes his head.

“At least you’ll be leaving all this behind,” Dean says, his face darkening. “You’ll be able to start new and shit.”

Cas turns to him, puzzled. “I’m barely going out of state. And it’s only for four years - less, if I can graduate early.”

“Uh huh,” Dean says, not looking convinced in the slightest. He swirls the terrible punch around in its cup before taking a large gulp.

* * *

Castiel swallows nervously.

“It’s good to see you,” he tells Dean.

“Same here,” Dean says. He glances at Charlie. “You know Charlie?”

“Cas teaches Latin and French at Carver Preparatory Academy,” Charlie pipes up. At Dean’s blank look, she explains, “A few years ago, Roman donated a bunch of tech to his alma mater. Yours truly was sent in to coordinate from Roman’s side of things, and Cas here drew the short straw at the high school.”

“I also chair the robotics club,” Castiel clarifies.

“You’re at Carver?” Dean asks, eyes widening. “Teaching those douche nozzles that stole Peppy the Pigeon?”

Castiel makes a face. “Those students were reprimanded and suspended. It was not an… authorized thievery.”

Dean snorts.

“And it’s not like your students’ hands are entirely clean either,” Castiel adds reproachfully. “Didn’t they sneak pot brownies into our bake sale for senior prom?”

“So what if they did?” Dean crosses his arms across his chest. “As far as I’m concerned, they got more bang for their buck. You can’t get a pot brownie for three dollars just anywhere.”

“The faculty bought them too! We were in the middle of midterms!”

Dean smirks. “Extra fun midterms, then.”

Castiel throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know why I even bother,” he says as he spins on his heel. “I need another drink.”

Dean hasn’t changed. Not one bit.

He gets halfway to the makeshift bar before Charlie waylays him. “Dude,” she says, her eyes huge.

“What?” Castiel jerks his arm to throw off her grip and makes as if to step past her.

“That was a disaster.”

“You’re telling me,” Castiel says sourly.

“Why’d you attack him like that?”

“He started it,” Castiel says, eyes flashing.

Charlie throws him a deeply skeptical look. “Are you really incapable of being in the same room for five minutes?”

Castiel sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Most likely.”

“At least nobody threw food,” Charlie says before perking up. “Although that last food fight was epic.”

“He started that one too.”

“You could’ve walked away, literal egg on your face or no,” Charlie says, the corner of her mouth twitching.

Castiel shakes his head. “I’ve never been able to walk away from Dean Winchester. You know that.”

“Sure,” Charlie says easily, “but he doesn’t.”

* * *

Cas swallows nervously. 

“I’ll come back for the holidays,” he offers boldly, the alcohol shoring up his resolve. He isn’t sure Dean would even care, but he needs to say something.

In the beginning, Dean needed help with Latin, so Cas was assigned as his tutor. After a rocky start - Dean kept ditching Cas for reasons unknown - Cas followed him to his car and refused to get left behind again. With Dean in the driver's seat, they picked up Sam at his middle school and drove him to soccer practice.

Cas tutored Dean right there on the bleachers overlooking the scrimmage game.

When it rained, Sam came with them to the library - as happy as a pig in shit, as Dean often said while ruffling Sam’s hair.

To celebrate their last tutoring session a month ago, Dean took Cas to the movies. A film had just opened about two demon hunting brothers. The trailer showed them saying a Latin exorcism, so it totally counted, according to Dean.

Dean and Cas are friends. Probably.

But Dean has a lot of friends. Cas has observed them across the cafeteria, over the pages of too many books to name. They make Dean laugh, far more than he ever has with Cas. They understand his jokes without explanations. Dean doesn’t meet their eyes for only a moment before ducking away.

After a small eternity, Dean speaks. “I’m glad you’re here, Cas.”

Warmth blooms bright in Cas’s chest. “Me too.” He fiddles with his cup before taking a reassuring swallow of liquid courage. “Why did you invite me?”

“I dunno.” Dean stares down at the drink between his hands. “Thought it would be nice.”

“Really?” Cas asks, his voice dripping with skepticism.

Dean screws up his face. “You seemed stuck in this funk, man. And you weren’t getting out of it on your own, so, I guess, I thought it was time to bring in the big guns.”

“A party?”

Dean grins. “Nothing like alcohol and bad decisions to loosen you up.”

Cas chuckles under his breath. “I almost didn’t come.”

“I figured it was a long shot. Why did you?”

Cas swallows down more of his drink. “You asked me to.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean drifts off, brow furrowed.

“You’ve asked me for exactly four things over the past year,” Cas says seriously, ticking them off on his fingers, “One, to let you drive Sam to soccer practice while we were supposed to have tutoring; two, to borrow my flash cards, which I was going to give you anyway; three, to go to the movies with you; and four, to come to Tessa’s house tonight. That’s it.”

Dean knocks back his cup, his eyes dark. “I guess I thought I was more of a drag for you these past few months.”

Cas’s mouth falls open in surprise. “A drag on what, my vibrant social life?”

Dean shrugs, staring out at the empty hallway. “You have this mysterious loner vibe going on. I didn’t think you wanted anyone to mess with that.”

Cas squints at him. “I have a vibe?”

“At first I thought you just thought you were better than the rest of us,” Dean continues as Cas’s heart sinks into the floor. “But I know better now.”

Cas tips back his drink, draining it. He croaks, “You do?”

One corner of Dean’s mouth lifts into a half-smile. “Yeah, I do, Cas.”

* * *

Castiel’s stomach flips at the sound of his name.

Dean catches up with him right outside of the gym, calling again, “Hey, Cas, wait!”

Castiel turns, dread curling in his gut. But he can’t flee - he still has some pride left. “What?”

“I think we need a do-over,” Dean says seriously.

Castiel bites back the, _What gave you that idea?_ on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he says, as evenly as he can, “I think so.”

Dean rubs the back of his neck, wrongfooted in a way Castiel has never seen on him before. “Look, we’re not our students, obviously.”

“Or else I would know what ‘yeet’ meant,” Castiel says wryly.

“Mood,” Dean deadpans, before his face breaks out into a smile as Castiel squints at him, uncomprehending. “I heard down the grapevine you went into teaching a few years ago. Good for you, putting those tutoring skills to better use.”

“It seemed a logical choice.” He eyes Dean, biting his lip as he tries to convey his next thought without offending him. “But I was surprised to hear you went into teaching too.”

Dean snorts. “You and everybody else.”

“Why did you?”

Dean shrugs. “I had this teacher in community college, Missouri Moseley - she said it would be a good fit for me. She convinced me to transfer to a four-year university and get certified.”

Curious, Castiel asks, “Why did she say it was a good fit?” before he thinks better of it, and adds quickly, “Not that I think she’s wrong.”

“’Course you don’t,” Dean says with a lopsided grin. “She said I would come to the role from a position of empathy. That I would be able to reach the troubled kids who need the most help.” He averts his gaze, muttering, “Fancy words for saying I have a soft spot for the outcasts and loners, I guess.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“No?” Dean’s brow furrows as he takes in Castiel’s stony expression. “I told you my dad was never around. Not one teacher noticed,” he says, gesturing around them. “Our guidance counselor was a waste of space. I only went to community college to set a good example for Sammy.”

“Yes, but,” Castiel protests, “you were popular. You weren’t an outcast.”

“But you were,” Dean said, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Castiel grimaces. “I know that.”

“There you go.” Dean crosses his arms across his chest, satisfied.

But, Castiel is far from satisfied. He hasn’t been satisfied for ten years. “I don’t understand you,” Castiel grinds out, frustrated. “You’re saying you went into teaching to help kids like me?”

Dean’s confidence cracks the tiniest fraction. “Yeah?”

Castiel lets out a dark laugh. “I suppose you have changed.”

“I mean, it’s been ten years…” Dean drifts off.

Castiel could use another drink. Or five. He rubs a tired hand down his face.

“Look,” Dean says, “I know I was an ass to you in senior year.”

“Only the last few months,” Castiel says sharply. “For the vast majority of that year, you were my friend.”

* * *

Cas’s stomach flips at the sound of his name.

Cheeks flaming, Cas sneaks a peek at Dean out of the corner of his eye.

Nobody called him ‘Cas’ before Dean. Teachers and classmates always used ‘Castiel.’ His relatives, his mother, all called him by his given name.

But Dean - Dean would sooner spend his valuable lunch money on the cafeteria salad than ever call him ‘Castiel.’ From day one, he claimed ‘Cas’ as his.

“I don’t mean to shut everyone out,” Cas says, the words spilling out of him before he can dwell too deeply on them. “I just don’t know how to let them in.”

“It’s not easy,” Dean says frankly. He tips back his cup of punch.

“You don’t seem to have the same difficulty,” Cas says in a low voice, trying not to sound accusatory.

Dean shrugs, his eyes troubled. “It’s all relative, I guess.”

Cas leans forward, resting one elbow on his knees as his other hand dangles uselessly at his side, clutching his mostly-empty cup. “I probably should have done more.”

“If you’re happy kicking it solo, who am I to tell you how to live your life?” Dean asks, and Cas cranes his neck to see him relaxing back, sprawling out so his arms take up the whole width of the stairs.

“But maybe I could have been happier if I had more friends.”

Dean shakes his head. “No way to know that for sure.”

“Really?”

Dean licks his lips. “I mean, I got a lot of people who like to listen to me run my mouth and make stupid jokes. I don’t have a lot of people who would put up with my idiot little brother for a twenty-minute car ride every week.”

“Sam’s not an idiot,” Cas says automatically.

Dean grins. “There we go.”

“I’m sure you have more than you think,” Cas says quietly.

“Leo would rather strip and sing the Macarena in front of the student body than spend one minute with Sam, and don’t get me started on Bela or Gordon,” Dean says derisively. “Look, ‘m pretty sure I got one dude who’s up for it, and I’m looking at him.”

Cas ducks his head, staring hard at the piece of carpet between his feet.

“You’re a good friend, Cas,” Dean’s voice says to his back. “If you want to fuck off after college and live like a hermit in the Rockies, be my guest. But it doesn’t have to be that way. It’s not your fault nobody else sees how awesome you are.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I told you, I’ll probably return after college. My family is here.”

“Fat lot of good they’ve been doing for you lately,” Dean snorts.

Cas turns to look at him. “I think I’ve managed fine on my own.”

“Yeah, but you deserve better than ‘fine.’” Dean sits up, his eyes dark and intense. “You deserve the goddamn world, man.”

Cas stares at him, his eyes wide.

“Fuck it,” Dean mutters before pressing their lips together.

* * *

Dean jerks back. 

“I - yeah, I know we were friends,” he stammers.

“You were my _only_ friend, Dean,” Castiel continues. “Do you know what it was like to see you, talk to you, every day for months, and then have it all taken away?”

Dean pales. He doesn’t say a word.

“Of course you don’t,” Castiel says bitterly. He glances around, but the hallway outside the gym is practically empty. 

Dean shifts his weight to his other food, more uncomfortable than Castiel has ever seen him.

“Look, I’m glad you are trying to make up for past mistakes,” Castiel says plainly. “That is an admirable thing. But I don’t know what you want from me now.”

Dean’s mouth opens, closes, and opens again. He shakes his head. “I - just to say sorry, I guess.”

“Apology accepted,” Castiel says stiffly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

This time Dean lets him go. 

* * *

Dean jerks back.

Cas’s hand shoots out, holding him in place. “Wait.”

Dean’s lips taste like punch drunk courage. His green eyes are wide as he freezes, close enough for his faint breaths to ghost over Cas’s face.

“Don’t go,” Cas says as his fingers tighten. “We can do it again, if you want.”

“If I…?” Dean drifts off, his mouth going slack.

Cas nods. “I’d like to.”

“Awesome.” Dean’s face breaks out into a wide smile. He scans the area, wincing as a loud cheer comes from party central behind them. “Want to go somewhere more private?” He gets to his feet and holds out his hand to Cas.

“Where?” Cas asks as he accepts the help up. 

Dean steps over the flimsy barrier to the next set of stairs. “Tessa’s brother is away at college,” Dean says as Cas hesitates. “His room should be free.”

Cas falters. It was one thing to share a quick kiss on the stairs. But being alone with Dean, in a strange room, in a strange house? He isn’t so sure he’s ready.

But this is probably his only chance. In a month from now, they will go their separate ways. Cas can promise to visit until he is blue in the face, but none of Dean’s past history tells Cas he can wait around or would even want to. 

Not that Cas would ever ask Dean to do that. Cas is only two drinks in, hardly enough to make him forget all the rumors he heard about what Dean got up to at these parties. ‘Never caught with the same chick twice,’ as Pam said loudly in homeroom a few months ago.

“I want you,” Cas says bluntly.

Dean licks his lips. “Alright then.” He gestures up the stairs. “Lead the way.”

* * *

Castiel pauses outside the threshold. 

He probably shouldn’t have taken a detour to the library, but he couldn’t resist. Why would he go to his reunion and miss the one place he felt most at home? He certainly harbors no good memories of the _gym_.

He pushes against the door.

But it doesn’t budge. Castiel tries again.

Why, for god’s sake, would they lock up the library?

Castiel’s old teenage fantasy rears its ugly head. Dean, ducking beneath the study table. Slowly unzipping Cas’s pants, maybe palming him once or twice, before pulling out Cas’s cock and sucking like his life depends on it. Cas, white-knuckling the table, jaws clenched shut not to let a single sound escape.

Oh, that’s probably why.

Castiel lets go of the handle in disgust. What a disappointing night all around. Not that he should have had high expectations. He’d just thought -

Castiel shakes his head and turns away.

Only to bump into Dean.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Dean says with a forced grin. He jerks his head towards the library. “Hoping for a goodbye tour?”

Castiel throws the door a dirty look. “It’s locked.”

“Then you’re lucky you know a guy who can pick a lock.”

“Who?”

Dean snorts as he roots around in his pocket. “Me.” He pulls out two paper clips with a flourish and catches a glimpse of Castiel’s face. “You can’t tell me you’re surprised.”

Castiel stares at him. “What are you doing here?”

Dean shrugs before crouching in front of the library doors. “Was hoping to find you, actually.”

_“Why?”_

Dean’s head tilts up to sneak a look at Castiel before he gets back to the task at hand. “I figured I owed you. For being such a dick way back when.”

Castiel sighs. It’s been such a long, frustrating night, and he’s barely been at the reunion more than forty-five minutes. “It’s fine, Dean.”

“No, it’s not,” Dean says as he gives his makeshift tools an experimental wiggle. “I want to make it up to you.”

“By breaking and entering?”

“Pretty on-brand for me, if you think about it.”

Castiel leans against the wall next to the door to watch Dean work. “I suppose so.”

Dean huffs a short, breathy laugh. “Some things don’t change, I guess.”

Castiel shakes his head. They shouldn’t go down that road again. He asks, instead, “How is Sam doing?”

Dean’s hands twitch, and he swears under his breath. “You remember him?”

“We did share a number of car rides together.”

Dean’s brow furrows as he maneuvers one wire up and down in minute motions. “He’s at Stanford Law. Wrapping up his last year.”

“Congratulations,” Castiel says. Sam had always struck him as a bright kid, always interested in learning, even if all they spoke about was sentence structure.

“It was all him,” Dean grunts.

“We both know that’s not true,” Castiel points out.

Dean doesn’t respond.

* * *

Cas pauses outside the threshold. 

The closed bedroom door looks horribly imposing.

“You okay?” Dean asks as he pushes it open. 

“Yes,” Cas says. He darts inside before his nerves fail him.

“Alright,” Dean says as he shuts the door behind them. “Where were we?” He approaches Cas slowly, his eyes hungry.

Cas lets himself get backed against the bed in the center of the room, Dean’s body impossibly warm against his. Dean’s hands reach up to cradle his face like it is a breakable Christmas ornament. His fingers swipe over Cas’s cheekbones as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

Impatient, Cas surges forward to seal their mouths together in a complicated mess of teeth and tongue. Dean’s lips part with a noise of surprise, and Cas wastes no chance to shove his tongue inside Dean’s mouth. He kind of wiggles it around - none of the pornography he’s watched before focused on kissing, so he does his best approximation.

But Dean is pulling away after only a few seconds. “Hey, hold on.”

Cas draws up short. “What?”

“That was - look, was that your first kiss back there? On the stairs?” Dean jerks his head back the way they came.

Mortified, Cas nods. He doesn’t have the voice to say more.

Dean sits down on the bed. “Then you gotta slow down.” 

_“You’re_ telling me to slow down?” Cas asks as he stares down at Dean, incredulous.

“Happens more often than you’d think,” Dean mutters. “Come on, you can’t say you liked that last one.”

“I - ” If the floor could open up and swallow him whole, Cas would pitch himself in head-first.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Dean says, pulling Cas closer so he can bracket his thighs with his legs. He gives him a reassuring squeeze with his knees. “’Bout time I got to teach you something, smarty pants.”

Cas looks away. “I suppose,” he says under his breath.

“Hey,” Dean says , drawing Cas’s reluctant gaze back to his face. “I want this too, okay?”

Cas’s brow furrows. “Even though,” he breaks off, unsure. “Still?”

Dean licked his lips. “You have no idea.”

* * *

“Jesus Christ,” Dean groans.

The library door gives way with a familiar click. “That took long enough,” he says. 

Castiel pushes himself off the wall. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean says with a small smile as he gestures for Castiel to go first.

Castiel sucks in a deep breath as the familiar smell of old books and something unique to the Edlund High library hits his nose. He steps forward, his eyes already peeled for the old favorites he could probably pick out blindfolded. He squints in the darkness as his fingers glide over the worn shelves, over the mysteries, the thrillers, the adventure novels. They gave him everything his normal high school life couldn’t.

“Ha!”

Cas jumps at the sound of Dean’s voice.

“What?” Cas asks as he finds him by the study tables. He stubbornly ignores the funny jolt to his stomach at the sight of Dean bending over the worn tabletops.

“They’re still there,” Dean says, pointing to the D.W and S.W etched into the wood, and, slightly below them, C.N.

“Of course they’re still there,” Castiel says, even as his fingers reach out to trace the decade-old etchings. “This is a public school. They hardly have the budget to replace furniture due to a little disfacement.”

Dean throws him a look. “You say things like that, and it makes me think you never got rid of that stick up your ass.”

“Excuse me?” Castiel tamps down on the flare of temper at the accusation. He won’t rise to Dean’s bait. “You work here. You probably know their yearly budget much better than I do.”

Dean crosses his arms across his chest. “Look, I know Carver’s better off than we are. But you don’t have to be all high and mighty about it.”

“I... wasn’t?” Castiel says, puzzled. “It’s a simple fact. I have been in education for a number of years. I have worked in schools like this before.” He taps the C. “I was let go from my last position for keeping a spare loaf of bread in my desk and a jar of peanut butter for students who couldn’t afford lunch.”

“They fired you for that?” Dean asks, his rigid posture loosening.

“I think it was the lying, more than anything else,” Castiel says as he looks up. “I told them I was saving it for myself, but then they looked at my students’ lunch balances, and put two and two together.” He smiles wryly. “I was actually happy to leave - not my students, of course, but the administration was a nightmare.”

“Sounds like,” Dean says, disgusted. He gestures around the library. “I don’t know if you heard, but Principal Singer retired a few years ago. Principal Mills is pretty great, though,” Dean says as he perches on the study table, staring around. “There’s no way she’d fire any of us for something like that.”

“Yes, well,” Castiel swallows. “I needed a change in scenery after that, so-”

“So you decided to shack it up with Yacht Club Jr.?”

Castiel sighs. “It’s not a perfect fit,” he says eventually. “But I needed a job, and my mother was able to pull some strings in that school district since she moved there a few years ago.”

“Your mom?” Dean asks, eyebrows raised.

Castiel nods. “We still don’t see eye-to-eye about most things,” he says, looking away, “But she still wants me to succeed. Or, at the very least, be able to pay rent and feed myself.”

“And your dad?” Dean asks tentatively.

“I haven’t heard from him in ten years,” Castiel says heavily. He pulls out one of the chairs and sits down. “He sent me a card for my birthday my first year of college, and then nothing.”

“What a fucking dick.”

Castiel ignores the old pang of hurt and reflexive urge to defend his father. Instead, he asks, “And yours?”

“Died in a car accident about eight years ago,” Dean says shortly.

Castiel’s heart twinges. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Dean waves off his apology. “I’ve come to terms with it,” he says in a way that conveys the exact opposite.

“I know he was a big presence in your life.”

“When he was there,” Dean adds bitterly.

“And when he wasn’t,” Castiel says sharply. “He was a big influence on you, even when he wasn’t physically present - unlike my father.”

“Yeah, well, go Team Daddy Issues,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. 

* * *

“Jesus Christ,” Dean groans.

Cas freezes.

“No, no,” Dean hisses beneath him, “Keep going.”

Biting his lip, Cas bucks his hips again, grinding their clothed cocks together.

“You’re killing me here,” Dean pants as his fingers dig into the meat of Cas’s ass. “Please tell me I can take your pants off now. I wanna feel you.”

“I - yes, of course,” Cas stutters as he lifts off Dean and tries to unbutton his jeans.

“Here,” Dean says, rolling over to a sitting position. He reaches for Cas, one hand settling possessively on his side, the pad of his thumb stroking a burning trail right under the jut of his hip. Cas has never been sensitive there before. He shivers.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Dean murmurs, his eyes rising briefly to catch Cas’s heated face before unzipping his pants and pushing them down his legs. “C’mere.”

“But you,” Cas protests weakly, gesturing to Dean’s own state of dress.

Dean wiggles out of his pants, muttering, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Um,” Cas hesitates as Dean kicks his jeans to the floor. “What now?”

“Now, if you’ll let me,” Dean licks his lips, “I’m going to put my mouth on you and suck you off until you come.”

Cas swallows instinctually, a little lightheaded. Maybe the alcohol is finally catching up to him; maybe there is no blood left for his brain after rushing south to his cock. “I’d like that,” he says hoarsely once he gathers enough sense to form a full sentence.

“I had a hunch you might,” Dean says wryly. “Here, lay down. I’ll get on top of you.”

Cas scrambles onto the bed, his heart hammering in his chest as Dean peels down his briefs. He fists the sheets, fighting the urge to turn over and hide himself from Dean’s gaze. He feels impossibly naked, even though his shirt is still on.

“Like I said, gorgeous,” Dean says, and some of Cas’s anxieties calm. Dean bends down, crouching over Cas’s bare legs. “Let me know if I do something you don’t like,” he says, meeting Cas’s gaze squarely. 

“Have you done this before?” Cas asks.

Dean nods as he traces a feather-light finger down Cas’s inner thigh. “A couple of times.”

Cas frowns before he can rein his jealousy in.

“I’ve never got a bad review before,” Dean says slyly, misreading Cas’s reaction completely. He trails his finger back up towards Cas’s groin on the other leg.

Cas’s cock twitches involuntarily in response.

“Eager, angel?” Dean asks, his eyes dancing.

Cas inhales a shuddering breath. “You have no idea.”

Dean grins. “Just you wait.”

“I _am_ waiting, Dean,” Cas says, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. The teasing, the smiles, that look in Dean’s eye, none of Cas’s fantasies prepared him for the real thing.

Dean bends down and licks a long, slow stripe up Cas’s cock.

_“Dean!”_

Chuckling to himself, Dean takes Cas in hand and gives him a few experimental pumps. “You gotta be quiet,” he says in a low voice. “We’re not supposed to be here, remember?”

Cas lets out a little whimper, straining with everything he had not to come.

“That’s it,” Dean says gently as he leans in closer. “I got you, Cas.”

* * *

Castiel jumps at the sound of voices outside. 

“Will we get in trouble if we’re caught in here?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Dean snorts. “Who cares. It’s not like we’re doing anything illegal in here. Just hanging out.”

Castiel bites his lip and gets to his feet. “If we’re only talking, then I suppose we should move to more sanctioned areas.”

“Sure, if you wanna be a total spoilsport about it,” Dean says, but he hops off the table and stretches his arms above his head. “Christ, I can’t believe my back hurts already.” He shoots Castiel a look. “Don’t tell my kids that. They already think I’m an old man.”

“If they think you act older than your age, I don’t want to know what they would think of me,” Castiel says mildly. He pushes his chair back under the table and starts for the door.

“They’d probably be hot for teacher.” 

Castiel freezes in his tracks. He spins on his heels to stare at Dean. “Excuse me?” 

Dean has the grace to look away. “What?” he says defensively. “The past ten years have treated you good, ‘s all I’m saying.”

“I - thank you?” Castiel says, taken aback.

Dean shoulders past him, saying brusquely, “Forget I said anything.”

Castiel doesn’t move he reaches out to grab Dean’s shoulder, thinks better about it, and calls instead, “Wait, Dean.”

Dean turns around, his face resigned. “What?”

“Why did you do this?” he asks, gesturing around the library. “Help me, I mean.”

“I told you, I owed you,” Dean says, but he won’t meet Castiel’s eyes. He looks like one of Castiel’s students. Like Alfie when Castiel caught him texting during class, or Ambriel when she forgot to do the reading.

“I don’t think that’s the whole story,” Castiel says evenly. “It’s been ten years, you could have let things lie between us.”

“But that’s just it,” Dean says, frustrated, “I can’t. I tried. Man, I tried so freaking hard.”

Castiel sucks in a breath, mind whirring. Dean had thought about him more than a few times over the past decade? _Why?_

“I was-” Castiel starts before breaking off into a different direction, “Dean, it was one night. One night together and a couple months of the cold shoulder. That’s it.”

Dean shakes his head. “Not for me, it wasn’t,” he says bitterly. “You have no idea.”

“Then tell me,” Castiel says, his tone brooking no argument.

Dean sighs. “I was so hung up on you. You were … so _yourself._ Doing your own thing, not giving a shit about what anyone else thought about you. And when I heard _you_ were the one tutoring my sorry ass, well, I thought I was the luckiest son of a bitch in school.”

Castiel’s mouth falls open.

“And then I got to know you,” Dean says, his green eyes trained on Castiel’s face with an intensity he’s never seen before, “and you got along with Sam, and it was everything I’d ever wanted.”

“That can’t be true,” Castiel says, his voice shaking. “You _left_ me. You left me there, in a house full of strangers. If that was how you really felt, how could you do that?”

* * *

Cas jumps at the sound of voices outside. 

The movement jostles the drips of semen on his stomach, and Cas grimaces in disgust. At some point after he’d orgasmed but before he jerked Dean off, they’d both lost their shirts. But he isn’t cold, not with them lying skin to glorious bare skin.

“Fuck,” Dean swears, his eyes going wide. He jumps off the bed. 

“What are you-” is all Cas can get out before Dean begins throwing clothing at him. 

“I’ll lead ‘em off.” Dean hops on one foot, yanking his pants up.

“Dean-”

“What?” Dean asks distractedly.

“I - we should talk.”

“Talk?” Dean freezes in place, shirt rumpled and cheeks red. “About what?”

“About what happened between us,” Cas says hesitantly.

Dean looks away. “I - sure - maybe. We were just letting off steam, right?”

Heart sinking in his chest, Cas nods. Yes, he desperately wanted to get off with Dean. But it was also so much more than that.

“I should really let them know…” Dean jerks his head towards the door and the people right outside.

“Yes, of course,” Cas says quickly. “We’ll talk after?”

Dean gives a funny little spasm that might be a nod.

Cas leans over to root around in the nightstand for tissues or anything to dry himself off. He settles for his briefs, a little damp anyway with precome. As he stands up to shove his legs into his jeans, Dean, already fully clothed, leaves without a word.

Numbly, Cas folds up his briefs and shoves them in his back pocket.

The voices outside get louder.

Vaguely, Cas can make out Dean telling the group he had to puke, and the downstairs bathroom was occupied. Cue the laughter.

The voices fade.

Dean does not return.

* * *

Castiel waits.

Dean shoves his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

_“What?”_

“You’d always taken care of yourself just fine,” Dean says, the barest undercurrent of heat in his words. “You never needed me.”

Castiel’s mouth opens and closes before he says, “We were _friends._ Did that mean nothing to you?”

“Of course not!” Dean hisses. “But we were both drunk and horny and, you told me yourself, you’d never done anything like that before - so forgive me for thinking you wouldn’t want anything to do with me when you’d gotten what you wanted!”

“That’s…” Castiel drifts off, at a loss for words at the sheer magnitude of Dean’s fallible logic. He runs a hand down his face. “I can’t believe it.”

"And when you said you wanted to talk," Dean continues, head shaking, "Well, I know how your head works. You were gonna make me go over everything that happened in that bedroom, pick it apart so you could have more facts to store in that big brain of yours." He takes a step back, eyes darting everywhere but at Castiel. “Well, this has been enough reminiscing about the glory days for one night. I’m gonna head out. Try to forget any of this ever happened. Have a nice life, Cas.”

“Dean,” Castiel grinds out, “Wait one moment.”

“Yeah, no can do,” Dean says quickly, his face one shade away from terrified, “I have an important appointment-”

“I waited for you for a full hour at Tessa’s house,” Castiel says coldly. “You could grant me at least a minute.”

Chastened, Dean shifts his weight to his other foot. He stares stonily down at the floor, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“I thought you saw me as convenient,” Castiel says once he’s ready to speak, “so that’s why you chose to make your move. It seemed impossible you’d pick me for any other reason. I had heard you chose a new person to sleep with at every party.”

“What the hell?” Dean murmurs, his green eyes wide in the dim light filtering in through the front doors. “I mean, I _did_ do that, but, Cas, that’s freaking nuts. Obviously you were different.”

“Because I was an awkward teenager with no friends,” Castiel asks, eyebrows raised. “You were the most popular boy in school. Everybody loved you.”

“I mean - debatable,” Dean says, rolling his eyes, “But none of them knew me like you did. You knew how screwed up my life was. How screwed up I was.”

“I could say the same for you,” Castiel points out.

Dean releases a breathy laugh. “I guess so.”

Castiel stares hard at Dean’s face, waiting for some sign of rejection as he takes a step forward, right into his personal space. “I came to the reunion hoping to run into you.”

“So you could finally let me have it after all these years?” Dean asks, only half-joking.

Castiel shakes his head. “I _was_ hoping for some closure.”

Confused, Dean’s eyes narrow. “Happy to give it to you,” he says slowly, “Like I said, I’ve got shit to make up for.”

Castiel shores up his resolve. “Now I’m hoping for a date.”

* * *

Cas waits. 

He isn’t sure for how long, but he feels the vibrations from the music downstairs change tempo several times. He doesn’t hear any more voices outside.

Feeling smaller than he has in his entire life, which is saying something, he creeps out of the room. He steals down the stairs, nearly tripping over his and Dean’s abandoned, empty cups. 

He lingers on the threshold of Tessa’s house. Maybe Dean got side-tracked by something in the party. Maybe he really intended to come back to Cas. Maybe he is waiting for Cas to find _him_ and prove his interest.

Too many “maybes” for Cas, who prefers to deal with cold, hard facts.

Fact #1: Dean never showed romantic interest in Cas before 

Fact #2: Dean only made his advances known after several alcoholic drinks

Fact #3: Boys like Dean don’t fall for boys like Cas

Maybe Cas is just delusional. 

Dean is probably with the rest of the partygoers, relaxed and happy with one orgasm under his belt, and looking for more before the night is over.

He can picture Dean’s face if Cas were to track him down: shocked and confused, a little angry Cas is clinging on even after their time together was clearly over.

Cas lets Tessa’s door slam behind him. He should never have come here.

A little squeak to his right nearly sends him jumping out of his skin.

“Cas?”

He squints. “Charlie?”

Her red hair flashes in the darkness as she pushes her bangs back from her face. “Hey, man. I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“Same,” Cas says weakly. “I - ” He breaks off at the sound of a large sniffle. “Are you alright?”

“’M fine,” Charlie says, ducking her head so her hair falls back in front of her face. “I was getting,” her breath hitches, “some fresh air.”

“It is crowded in there,” Cas says, at a total loss for what to say. But he can’t leave her alone out here, clearly upset.

The worst thing is being alone.

He tries, “I - are you sure you’re alright?”

Charlie noisily sighs through her mouth. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re crying.”

Charlie flinches. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“I - is there anything I can do to help?” Cas asks.

“Unless you can convince Gilda to take me back, not really,” Charlie says, shoulders hunching as she crosses her arms over her chest and stares out at the empty street beyond. She sniffs. “Nobody meets their True Love in high school, or at least that’s what I’m trying to tell myself.”

“It is statistically unlikely,” Cas offers tentatively, “assuming true love exists as well.”

“You don’t believe in true love?”

Cas shakes his head. “Not anymore.”

Charlie turns to him, her eyes wide with surprise. “You too?”

Cas looks away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh,” Charlie says, and, impossibly, her mouth tips up into the smallest of smiles. “Come on, tell me about it. Misery loves company, right?”

Cas swallows past the lump forming in his throat. “I had my first kiss tonight.”

Charlie’s face falls. She takes a step closer and wraps her arms around him. She smells like a berry-scented shampoo and cheap vodka. “That’s rough, buddy.”

Frozen in shock, Cas doesn’t move. It takes an extra hard squeeze from Charlie to get him to return the hug. Once he does, he finds it strangely comforting. 

He doesn’t know Charlie all that well, but in this strange liminal space outside the horror show of Tessa’s party, so far removed from his safe haven in the library, it is exactly what he needs.

Maybe making new friends isn’t as hard as Cas thought.

* * *

“You want... _me_?” Dean asks.

“If you’ll have me,” Castiel says, nodding. 

“But…” Dean says, looking more than a little lost, “We can’t?” He phrases it like a question.

Castiel tilts his head. “Why not?”

“Because,” Dean splutters, “our history!”

“Our history consists of mutual romantic interest and a few stupid teenage mistakes,” Castiel says evenly. “Hardly insurmountable. You clearly are still attracted to me. I can say the same of you.”

“C’mon, man,” Dean says - pleads, really, “With our baggage, it’ll never work out. It’s been ten years. We’ve changed.”

“I hope for the better,” Castiel says, his eyes narrowing. “Yes, you were a dick back then. But you were also my friend.”

Dean exhales an explosive sigh. “Are we really doing this?”

“If you don’t want to,” Castiel says, his stomach already clenching in anticipation, “I’m not going to force you.”

“No, no, of course I do,” Dean says quickly. “You doing anything now?”

“Other than attending my high school reunion?” Castiel asks with raised eyebrows. “No.”

“Great,” Dean says, his face breaking out into a wide smile. “I think we’ve both maxed out our free drinks a while ago, so what do you say to ditching this snoozefest early?”

“I don’t think I’ve ditched anything in my life,” Castiel says honestly.

Dean laughs and holds out his hand. “Christ, I don’t know how you survived without me.”

Castiel rolls his eyes as he gives Dean’s fingers a squeeze. “I’m starting to wonder about that myself.”

Instead of leading Castiel out of the library, Dean pulls him closer. “Wait a sec, I wanna try something.”

“What?”

But before Castiel can say another word, Dean’s mouth lands on top of his. His lips are warm and slightly dry, and wonderfully devoid of the taste of alcohol. 

Castiel buries his hands in the loose material of Dean’s shirt, keeping him anchored in place as he opens his mouth to let Dean’s tongue slip inside. Butterflies take flight in his stomach, and he would probably float away if not for Dean’s steady hand resting on his waist.

Dean breaks the kiss first. But he makes no move to step away, letting his forehead rest against Castiel’s. They stand there, sharing breaths.

Dean breaks the silence. “I’ve always wanted to do that here.”

“You have?” Castiel asks, chuckling almost giddily. He feels, more than sees, Dean’s nod. Cas presses a barely-there kiss against Dean’s lips, whispering, “I’ve always wanted you to blow me under the desks, but at least we were able to satisfy one teenage fantasy today.”

Dean chokes with laughter. Eyes crinkled with the joy of his smile, he gestures to the tables. “I’m down if you are.”

Castiel looks askance at the door. “Maybe when there aren’t as many people to walk in on us. We aren’t even supposed to be here at all.”

Dean surreptitiously adjusts himself in his jeans. He scowls. “Then why torture me like that?”

Castiel shoots him a dry look as he heads for the exit. “Because you owe me, remember?”

“This is some effed up revenge plan you have,” Dean grumbles as he follows.

Castiel holds open the door. He eyes Dean critically. “You aren’t really bothered.”

“Tell that to the boner I popped in my pants like a teenager,” Dean retorts.

“I think it’s flattering.”

“I think you’re enjoying my pain,” Dean says under his breath as they pass the empty welcoming table and cross the threshold out of Edlund High.

“You caught me,” Castiel deadpans.

Dean swings his arm up to wrap around Castiel’s shoulders. He presses a smacking kiss to Castiel’s hair. “Man, I missed you.”

Castiel turns his head to see Dean properly. He’s gorgeous like this, standing under the faint twinkling of stars overhead, a wide grin adorning his face, his expressive eyes dancing with mirth. 

“I missed you too, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, I'm hoping to post an outsider-POV oneshot set in the teachers timeline of this 'verse tomorrow. So keep an eye out!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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